On My Nightstand, On My Easel 4/1/23

 On my nightstand:

A human being

blessedly

is endowed with a dual capacity:

to experience our

oh-so-mortal physicality

and simultaneously to attune, 

in the stillness of the now,

to the timeless reality of which we partake.

To be incarnate

is to inhabit a body,

even as we can detect—

very nearly feel, 

in a palpable way—

a larger truth enfolding and saturating

our temporal existence.

This means than in addition 

to attuning us to the sensory world,

the body is the ‘vehicle’ 

through which we know

the timeless now.

—Jan Frazier, from a forthcoming book

On my easel:

I look at the letters appearing on the 'page' on my laptop screen as I type, little black marks that represent the Latin alphabetic writing system. They are nothing more than little black marks. Visible to my eye. Visible to yours. 

But what takes place when our very human eyes take in these codified symbols is vast beyond measure. This writing/reading thing, if you'll stop right here right now to be still enough to listen, speaks in its own way to something larger that enfolds and saturates our temporal existence. I type these letters, you read these letters, and we are given to tap into—we are given to know—more than words can ever say.

A Larger Truth
1.5 x 6" bookmark; acrylic, ink, and Stabilo pencil
on watercolor paper
abstract
2023

On My Nightstand, On My Easel 3/29/23

On my nightstand:

Geese appear high over us,

pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,

as love or sleep, holds

them to their way, clear

in the ancient faith: what we need

is here. And we pray, not

for new earth or heaven, but to be

quiet in heart, and in eye,

clear. What we need is here.

    —Wendell Berry

On my easel:

I'm having so much fun playing with faux calligraphy!

What We Need Is Here
1.5 x 6" bookmark; acrylic, ink, and Stabilo pencil
on watercolor paper
abstract
2023

Poems: One. At. A. Time.

I can fly through a 400-page novel in a matter of a few days.

Poems, on the other hand, need to be surrounded by time. They need to be framed with long, slow, deep breaths. Absorbed and received in an entirely different and more spacious way than story.*

So it is with visual poems as well.

I present you with the first in a series.

An Invitation to Walk Through Some of Your Doors
1.5 x 6" bookmark; acrylic, ink, and Stabilo pencil
on watercolor paper
abstract
2023

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*And, yes, since you ask, it might take me over a year to read 400 poems!